The Battle of Freljord
by Animus Vox LIV
Summary: NaNoWriMo challenge, first chapter. Expect it to be rough - only cursory editing and this was written with a deadline, not quality, in mind. 4 more chapters will be coming, one every 6 days. Only basic (necessary) OCs, no lemon, just a simple short story. When hell freezes over, who's going to be there to break the ice?
1. Sweet Mountain Woman

Some considered the icy, frozen wastes at the far north of Valoran just that - a bleak landscape devoid of anything but snow, yetis and the occasional frosty corpse of an adventurer who had bitten off slightly more than he could chew. Even the names in this desolate place seemed to echo their remoteness and the enormous expanse of empty space that was the Freljord's tundra: Romke's Gap, the Gelid Vortex, and Cracked Skull Camp, to name a few. To others, it was home. The icy spires and glacier plains were alive and teeming with life, if only you knew where to look. Though the windswept marches and vast muskeg holes were littered with corpses, it was only the overly zealous or overly stupid that ended up falling into their early graves. And, from death there is always life, however short and sweet.

It was early spring, when the ice first began melting and running down from the glaciers. Rivers blossomed from the snow and life began anew. As the vast sheets of white disappeared from the ranges and plains, life once again began peeking out from between the icy cracks in the ground. Half-starved poros popped out of their dens once again, hopping over the lichens and arctic poppies in force. The soccer ball-sized adults contrasted heavily with their smaller young; the adults seemed slow and lethargic after a winter's hibernation, while the young, still brave and bewildered by the world around them, ran circles around their parents. Gleefully bumping heads and running around to investigate their surroundings, the pups seemed to have little care in the world.

During the first couple months of a poro's life, they tended to remain hidden during the day. The young were relatively small and defenseless, and the adults were not capable of defending their young very well after hibernation. With no fangs, claws, and only rudimentary horns, poros were as close to the bottom of the food chain as was possible. However, they did have one evolutionary advantage that almost ensured their survival: they were undeniably adorable. Poros were essentially a small ball of fluff with two small curving horns, a pair of big eyes, an enormous mouth with an equally oversized tongue. White at birth, they turned gray with age.

In the past, the only animals that had been worth domesticating were the dolyaks and wolves that prowled the high plains. Now, however, poros were a more common sight inside the holds and towns that littered the countryside. People would feed and care for poros, though they mainly benefited from benign neglect: the safety that the city provided with the free food that was readily available in garbage and scraps caused their population to explode. Especially in the capital, Rakelstake.

Set on an enormous, frozen lake in the heights of the Ironspike Mountains, Rakelstake had once been nothing more than a small trapper's hold. Years later, it had grown into the largest settlement in the Freljord, with a population reaching into the thousands. While many Freljordians preferred the nomadic lifestyle, enough had decided to settle that Rakelstake had also become the center of power in the region, as well as the biggest static population in the north.

The city sat in a ravine between the two halves of the Avarosan Iceflow Glacier. Both of the glacial walls had been carved, hollowed out and reinforced with magic to make suitable housing where the banks of the lake could not. In the winter, the lake was nothing more than a giant sheet of ice, perfect for fast transport and entertainment. In the summer, it was a vast, slow-moving river that flowed out of the mountains and into the southern parts of Valoran. Though it was treacherous in the fall, when the ice was thin, it was at its worst in the spring. Melt water from higher in the mountains softened the ice and turned it into a death trap, sometimes keeping people locked in their homes or on small islands until the waters receded. Though the flood lasted only a couple days, every year there were casualties. This year would be no different.

After a long day helping her men and women down by the river, the Queen of Freljord was retiring for the evening. Sore and worn out, she slowly marched up the long stairway into the palace. She did not really enjoy living in the frozen throne room of the palace, simply because it made her feel like her people were considering her more important than she considered herself. The crystalline walls felt more like a prison than a royal house, and every day that she was forced to spend in her palace was one she felt that she had lost. Of course, becoming a champion in the League of Legends had helped her greatly by giving her an excuse to get out more, but it simply was not enough. Arriving on the landing, the queen drew a deep breath and held it. Hopefully, there was no one inside waiting for her tonight. Once she stepped through the door she gave a soft sigh and glanced around her barren throne room. Tryndamere was gone once again, probably fighting some barbarian threat on the borders, or simply showing force to keep the Noxians at bay - not that the Noxians had any desire to return to the snow and cold at this time of year.

Pausing for a moment at her frozen throne, Ashe let her eyes trace the enormous chair's contours. Larger than Tryndamere's throne and centered in the room, the overly-ornate seat set Ashe's teeth on edge. It felt flashy. Gaudy. She could not tell the craftsman - who had been very proud in his work - that it disgusted her. Carved from ice, anyone who touched it found their body frostbitten almost immediately; when she sat in it, however, it simply felt cool. Large spikes rose on either side of the back piece, which was carved with the totems of the four spirits of the wild: Bear, Tiger, Turtle and Phoenix.

With a final, cursory glance at her chair - for that was all that it really was - Ashe turned to leave. There was still a good distance to go before she found her destination. While Ashe weaved her way through the shimmering passages and narrow halls that littered the iceberg that had become her home, she found herself lost in thought. The past couple days she had felt tense. There was no real reason behind it, either, but she had felt the call of the wilds scratching in the furthest recesses of her mind, as though something was trying to draw her out of her city. Of course, her first instinct was to rush off and find whatever was nagging her; her years of ruling had taught her that this may not have been the best course of action. No, for now, she would bide her time and wait. If the nagging grew stronger, then she would investigate.

The queen stopped for a moment to glance around a corner. With no one in sight, she let out a long sigh and loosened her cloak. Warm, yes, but not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world to wear for long periods of time. Especially considering the fact that it weighed almost ten pounds by itself, soaked with silt-laden river water and sweat. Ashe considered letting her cloak simply fall to the floor, but with a resigned sigh she picked it back up, slung it over her shoulder, and carried it to her quarters.

Much like the rest of the palace, Ashe found her room much too extravagant for her tastes. The barbarians that had followed Tryndamere and moved in with the Avarosan made short work of showing their allegiance by showering her people in gifts. The barbarians received much more than they had given, granted, but Ashe saw this as the first act towards a unified front. Her room alone contained several furs, weapons, and even a few couches fashioned to look like the ones found in a Demacian noble's estate. Though comfortable, she found them oddly excessive; why should she enjoy the comforts of a lush life when her people were some of the hardiest in the world. It seemed counterproductive, if not downright insulting. Her bed was much the same way, though that was one luxury she couldn't give up. After a lifetime of sleeping on the permafrost with nothing but furs for insulation and padding, the bed was a very welcome change. It had taken some getting used to, but now she could not go without.

Before Ashe headed down to her favourite hideaway, the archer tossed her cloak over one of the many chairs that littered the room. This one in particular sat around a table that had a large map of the Freljord spread across its length. Her fingers traced the contours of her nation, though a small frown tugged her full lips down at the edges. There was still so much work to be done, even with the addition of Tryndamere's people. Mentally, the Frost Archer blotted out the areas she had no control over: from Breakneck Gulch in the south, across the Whitefrost Drifts and into the Ironspike mountains. An enormous swathe of land still controlled by the Winter's Claw.

After tapping her finger on the parchment a couple times, Ashe straightened, sighed, and pulled her silvery hair around to her front. Peace would come, but not in time. Many lives would still be senselessly thrown away for nothing but pride and arrogance. And though some may die honourably through battle, the majority of them would be from starvation, freezing, or, in the case of the Winter's Claw tribe, murder. The Winter's Claw believed only the strong should survive, and all others were inferior; if someone ended up sick or injured and could not recover on their own, more often than not they were left to die on the tundra. Ashe bit her tongue at the mere thought of it. Something as simple as a broken ankle could easily be viewed as an insurmountable obstacle. The Avarosan simply saw it as murder. No more, no less.

With her mood further dampened, the queen brushed her hand across the parchment and she headed for the heavy pine door that kept her icy chambers somewhat private. The crystalline walls had been reinforced with both stone and magic, a combination that made them nearly impregnable. Even with the hearth burning away in the center of the room, the ice would not melt. Before she parted her room, she made sure to brush her light armour down. A simple leather strap kept her navy blue bodice in place. With no sleeves, only her braces provided any kind of protection for her arms and hands - in the elements of the Freljord, her attire may have seemed light, but she was no regular woman. Her armour was finished off with a thigh-length skirt that was both practical for her and distracting for her enemies. On the Fields of Justice, any advantage was worth grabbing, even if it meant sinking to levels that she wouldn't normally choose to. After spending so much time there, however, this new style seemed to become a second skin. She flicked some latent silt from the gold trim on her bust line before finally pulling the heavy oaken door open and wandering out into the hallways.

It was still a good distance before she finally reached her destination: a hot spring just over a kilometer from the palace itself. The location was relatively remote and known by few; a key selling point for someone of royal blood. Before sinking into the steaming waters, Ashe knelt down and tested them with her sore fingers. Almost too hot to touch, yet just what the doctor ordered. Satisfied with the temperature, Ashe stood and glanced around. Large granite slabs littered the small lee, making this a perfect ambush spot for as comfortable as it was to relax in. Once she was sure that nothing lurked in the growing shadows, the Frost Archer began to relax fully.

The first thing she got rid of was her bow. She meandered around the rocky shelf that projected over the spring and placed her icy bow on a small, convenient ledge. A 'gift' of sorts from her ancestor, Avarosa herself, the bow was one of the few remaining True Ice weapons in the world. It had saved Ashe from many an ambush, both on and off the Fields of Justice. And though she had no children of her own, that bow was as close as she intended to get for a very long time. Once her bow had left her hands, the archer sat down and began to remove her armour. Two straps on either bracer had to be loosened and then she wriggled free of their confines. After a moment of stretching her fingers to stimulate circulation, she began on her greaves. Easier to put on, a bit more complex to remove, but they provided protection that boots alone wouldn't. Instead of immediately starting on her top after she tossed her greaves onto the ledge, Ashe sat down and slipped her feet into the spring water. A pleasured groan escaped her lips and she leaned back, propping herself vertical with her hands. It felt better than she cared to admit, especially after a long day on her feet working to keep the river clear. She splashed around for a few moments before she reluctantly pulled away and finished undressing.

Her fingers laced around the strap that hung around her neck and she swiftly pulled it up and over her hair. Then she reached behind, fiddled with the zipper, and peeled the dress off her lithe frame. She made sure to check her body for any lacerations picked up during the day as they would need extra attention. Once all was clear, the archer folded her armour and placed it with the rest of her gear before she slipped into the water.

At its deepest point, the hot spring barely managed to cover Ashe's modest chest, so the archer decided to take a walk. The first few steps were somewhat tentative as she felt for the drop that she knew was there, and when she did finally find it she almost fell over. Ashe threw her arms to one side to regain her balance and huffed quietly at the spring, as though it had some dastardly plot to drag her under. When she caught sight of her reflection in the water, the archer paused for a moment to inspect herself. Grime and muck covered her face and she could see some dried blood mixed in with the slop as well. She quickly splashed water over her face and tried to scrub her skin clean. The thin layer of grime might have helped explain why she was itching all the way back to the palace.

As soon as she was clean, she inspected her features once again. Soft, tanned skin framed by long locks of silvery white hair; though she was in her mid-twenties, Ashe's hair had been silver for a couple years due to an icy encounter. She ran a finger along her lips and checked for any new scratches or scars that she could add to the collection that already littered her frame. The newest livid mark ran from her left ear to her right cheek, a gash clear across her face from a rather heated discussion with one of her Freljordi rivals, Sejuani. With a small sigh, the queen slipped over to her favourite rock and settled into the warm waters.

Ashe closed her eyes and mentally leafed through the day's events. The spring floods were in full swing, and every able-bodied man and woman was down by the river either helping to maintain the few bridges that connected the different districts of the city or sitting on the banks fishing the luckiest of the unlucky from the raging waters. In the south, she knew that Sejuani's bandits - for that was all that they were - were making inroads and once more probing Avarosani lands for weaknesses. A few villages had already been pillaged, and the queen had dispatched a vanguard to hunt down the bandits. Her brow creased and she rubbed her forehead in frustration. Why did this have to be the order of things? Why was Sejuani so pig-headed about forming even the simplest of alliances? It would save so much suffering. Before the mounting anger could overcome her once again, Ashe pushed off her rock and dunked her head into the warm waters. It was as though the simple motion washed her cares away.

Surfacing for a moment, Ashe drew a large breath of air and then swiftly pushed off the rocks. Though her unrefined style was not the most efficient, it was more than enough for her to gently cruise through her personal pool. The springs were almost fifty meters across which gave her ample room to stretch and exercise after a day of constant strain. Upon reaching the far side of the spring, Ashe surfaced and inhaled deeply to refill her lungs. Steam and her hair clouded her vision, though something caused her to pause. She brushed her bangs from her face and glanced around curiously - there had been something there mere moments ago... or was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she so tired that she was seeing things? Or imagining, as the case may be.

"Hello?" Her voice almost broke the first time she spoke, simply because she had been yelling almost all day. When nothing replied, the archer rose from the water. Droplets trickled down her nude form and she found herself shuddering as though the temperature had dropped several degrees in a heartbeat. Cold may not have bothered her, but the icy bite she felt in the air was nothing natural. While she waded back to her bow, Ashe kept a keen eye on the granite slabs all around her. Nothing seemed out of place, but a proper assassin would never make such a rookie mistake. However, the moment she touched her bow, the chill seemed to disappear entirely. Heat rushed back against her frame and almost overpowered her; Ashe had to wave her hand in front of her face to keep the searing heat away for long enough for her body to adapt.

Sure that all was clear once again, the archer slowly drifted away from her weapon. It had been only a couple days since she had been on the frontlines fighting against the Winter's Claw insurgents, and maybe she was still jumpy. There was no way that they had made it this far anyway, so she forced herself to relax. Ashe still was not quite used to the concept of 'relaxing' when she was away from the field; it simply was not something that she had time to do when she was growing up. There was always a reason to move, to stay on edge, and to have your weapon ready. Here, in Rakelstake, things were different. The walls were high, the guards were many, and more importantly they were loyal to her. She kept her guard up, but now she was actually able to put her weapon down and do something as simple as take a bath without fearing for her life.

The archer slowly made her way towards a small, well-hidden crevice at the back of the spring. As she approached, she could feel the water grow warmer and the stream in the air thickened. There was a couple cracks that vented hot water into the spring, and this one in particular was one of Ashe's favourite spots. Further hidden between the heavy granite slabs, Ashe found her hideaway. A small chamber formed by a pile of boulders had created a natural sauna. Running her fingers along the walls as she waded to her seat, Ashe marveled at just how thick the mosses had grown since she was last here. In some ways, this was her second palace - a place where she could reign from a comfortable throne, and her only subject was herself. After drawing another deep breath, Ashe placed her palms flat on the edge of a small ledge and she pushed herself up. A simple twist was all it took to plant her toned rump into the soft, spongy mosses. As a familiar warmth began boiling through her body, she pulled her long hair around to her front and began combing it with her fingers before inching down over her front. In the privacy of her hidden kingdom, she ran her spray-dampened fingers across her front and let her legs swish in the water before her. Lower and lower she reached, until, with a soft groan, her back arched.

A few hours later, Ashe waded out of her hiding place and headed for the edge of the spring. She paused once more to glance around the surrounding rocks, still feeling as though something was watching her. Watching? No, that was not the term she was after. This did not feel the way that being watched felt. It was not raising the hairs on the back of her neck and she did not feel uncomfortable. In fact, the Frost Archer felt oddly safe. Protected. As though whatever force was out there was a force for good, not evil. Perhaps one of the Spirits of the Wild was watching over her on this chilly eve. Though she did not know what it was, she bowed her head and gave quiet thanks to whatever was out there as she collected her weapon and scant armour. She spent a long moment gazing at the grimy cloth and metal before rolling her eyes. There was no way she was going to put it back on after a bath. Besides, the odds of someone coming to find her, especially at this time of the day, were slim to none.

So, Ashe tossed her armour over her shoulder, gripped her bow in the other, and wandered down towards her palace. In the early spring, the path was rather treacherous. Ice had coated the hastily-carved stairs and every step was a gamble. More than once, Ashe felt her feet starting to slide and she was forced to either stay her pace or toss herself to one side to keep her balance. Snow still lingered in on the rocks around her, so she also had to be careful of what she grabbed if she did fall. Going up was much easier than going down, the queen mused to herself.

The next stop on her tour was her bedroom. Once she was through the oaken door once more, Ashe glanced around. No one in sight? Perfect. She shrugged her shoulder and dumped her armour where she stood. On the way to one of her many wardrobes, she paused to hang her bow in its rightful place. The rack had been carved from True Ice and had a pair of small silver hooks held her archaic weapon aloft. Her eyes graced the etched, reflective surface and she felt a small smile tug at her lips. Avarosa would be proud, if she could see through time. Maybe the ancient queen could; stranger things had happened. With a barely audible sigh, Ashe pulled away and glanced around the room. The hearth fire was quietly crackling away, flicking sparks over the smooth stones encircling it.

Ashe grabbed a thin strip of navy blue silk from her vanity while wandering over to her nightgown wardrobe. She pushed her bangs out of her face and went to open the doors to her wardrobe, but hesitated just long enough to actually tie her hair back, leaving the strip of silk in her lips. That moment's hesitation was enough time for her door to burst open and a young soldier to stumble into her chambers, gasping for breath.

"M-My Queen, I m-must sp-speak wi-" he coughed, but when he caught sight of her resplendent nudity, he stood bolt upright in shock and embarrassment.

Without missing a beat, Ashe turned to face him, hair held in her hands, silk keeping her silent, and waited for what he had to say. Countable seconds later, her runner's mind seemed to realize that it had shut down and he started, immediately averting his gaze. "I-I'm sorry! I d-did not th-think to knock!" he stammered, face reddening from more than the cold. It was a social faux-pas that would find the perpetrator executed in either Demacia or Noxus, but Ashe simply shrugged it off. She had no shame and one soldier was hardly a worry for her. Even if he did tell his unit that he had seen his queen in the buff, would they believe him? Once her hair was secured, Ashe plucked the silk from her lips and finished tying her hair back.

"I assume you have good reason to barge into my quarters at this hour? Without knocking?" her chastising tone was much more humour-filled than the soldier expected, and he found himself without words for another long moment. Ashe's eyes raked over his form as he gathered the courage to look up. Rather scrawny, with standard-issue armour. There were more than a few dents and dings in his gear, which seemed odd. He was definitely green and he had more damage than she would expect for someone new to the battlefield. Especially since, for the most part, conflict in the north had been reduced to border skirmishes.

With a deep breath, the soldier readied his report. "I bring news f-from the Howling Abyss."

That caught her attention. The icy queen turned back to him from the wardrobe, a silken chemise hanging loosely between her fingers. The soldier swallowed heavily before continuing. "We were on a routine patrol south of the Abyss when one of our forward scouts saw something. He claimed that there were men made of ice marching out of the ruined temple... when we went to investigate, my unit was ambushed. I'm-" his voice gave way for a few moments before he spoke up again. "I'm all that's left, my queen. I ran. I am a coward and I ran." The soldier removed his spangenhelm and bowed his head in shame, awaiting the queen's reprimand. What he got was not what he expected. Ashe's hand flew to the man's jaw and she wrenched his face upwards, forcing his eyes to hers.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace - how many were there? What weapons did they wield? Were they a scouting party? Or were they an army?" Ashe fired off her questions faster than the soldier could reply, which simply aggravated the situation further.

"I don't know!" he managed to reply. Her response was immediate: she shoved him backwards and let out a cry of frustration. Iceborn? Waking now? What was going on? Lissandra was known for her subtlety and a show of force like this - especially one that cost lives - was not a part of her typical repertoire. Why would she be moving forces now?

Planting a hand on her forehead, Ashe began pacing in a circle around her chemise. "Is there nothing else you can tell me? Or am I going to have to guess that we're under attack now?" Her tone had shifted from teasing to incredibly stressed in a heartbeat.

After rubbing the back of his neck under the pressure, the soldier finally gave her some useful information. "I don't think it was a full attack, not yet. There weren't that many monsters-"

"Iceborn." Ashe cut him off and then waved him to continue.

He cleared his throat and continued. "There weren't that many Iceborn. They seemed to be as surprised to see us as we were to see them. Fought like demons, though... we outnumbered them and they just cut us down. Froze people in place with spells and their weapons cut through our armour like it wasn't even there. We... we tried to fight. We did our best."

The only thing that Ashe could do to comfort the visibly-shaken soldier was to hug him. A step closer, her arms lacing around his waist, she held him and gave him time to compose himself. When she finally pulled back, she gave him a small, earnest smile. "You did what you could, for your nation. We cannot ask more of you. Head down to the kitchens, tell them that I sent you. Get something to eat and then head home. You're done for now. "

With a grateful nod, the soldier replaced his helmet and left her room, closing the door behind himself. The image of his queen, nude and unshaken by his appearance, would be with him forever.

Once her unexpected guest had gone, Ashe turned to her chemise and picked it up off the floor. A pale blue with silver embroidery along the bottom, it was one of her favourites. Frosty designs kept the almost-transparent silk as modest as possible while still teasing anyone who stopped to look at her for too long. With a sigh, she pulled it over her head. Tomorrow was going to be an incredibly long day.

Hours later, far to the south of Rakelstake, the soldier finally came to a rest. Running out of the city had proven much more of a challenge than he had first anticipated, and the guards at the gate had asked a few too many questions. Now he leaned against a large pile of rocks, panting heavily and trying to regain his breath. Never again would he volunteer for such a stupid mission.

"Well?" an icy, feminine voice rang out from behind him. He jumped in shock and whirled to face the intruder, but he had no reason to worry.

"How can that void-damned PIG move so quietly!?" he snapped, glaring into the darkness. A softly glowing object hurtled towards his body and he only barely had time to sidestep before it impacted into the rock he had been leaning against moments before; the rock shattered immediately.

The soldier lit his torch and raised it high. Flickering light burst into existence, revealing not only the boar rider, but her retinue as well. He gave a small bow to his queen and then spoke. "Everything is in place, Sejuani. The Pretender will be sending troops to investigate the Howling Abyss tomorrow. We should be able to beat her there and set up the ambush as you had planned."

A stiff nod was the only reply he received for his work before Sejuani urged her enormous battle boar forward. "We brought you a boar. Try to keep up." She gave him a few moments to mount up before spurring Bristle hard and taking off across the tundra. The speed with which the Ironfur Boars could charge was second to none in the far north, but taming such volatile creatures was difficult at best. Between their leathery hide, long, scythe-like tusks, and incredibly thick fur, there was very little that could harm the boars either. Unlike many pigs, the Ironfur Boars had a long tail as well with sharp quills at the end that they could use to fend off attackers. If that was not enough to deter any would-be predator, the adults were known to form living shields around their young. The wall of tusks was enough to fend off even the hungriest steppe bear.

Sejuani herself seemed to match Bristle in more ways than one. The battle-hardened leader of the Winter's Claw tribe had seen many unworthy opponents fall beneath her True Ice flail. Her heavy armour covered her from head to toe in roughly wrought iron plate interspaced with Ironfur quills and leather. Ceremonial glyphs and knots adorned every patch of raw iron, warding her from harm and the permanent winter that seemed to envelop Freljord.

Not that she needed much help to avoid the cold - descended from Serylda, her blood ran colder than ice. Her helm, another gift passed down from the ages alongside her weapon, had one horn broken off at the base. The other rose, ox-like, out to one side and then swooped forward. Though no one would ever be brave enough to admit it, her features seemed to resemble Ashe's. Soft lips and a rounded face were the end of the similarities, however; Sejuani's piercing, frigid glare was unmistakable and she lacked the livid scar that Ashe had recently picked up. Her short blonde hair was well hidden under her helmet, which only helped to add to her rather fierce appearance.

Sejuani led the charge across the permafrost, heading towards the chosen ambush site. The odds of Ashe's forces arriving the next day were slim to none, but she was not about to let this kind of opportunity pass her by. Opportunity came once a lifetime in the Freljord - giving it up was not an option.

Their chosen ambush site was as perfect as anyone could have hoped. The spring melt had managed to remove most of the snow from the area, but the ground was still frozen enough to mask any footprints that a scout would be looking for. Huge frost heaves formed natural choke points all around and when combined with large boulders and chunks of granite shorn off from the Ironspike mountains by time and glaciers, it had more than enough cover to hide the force Sejuani had delegated to this task. Her numbers were much fewer than what Ashe would send, and she knew this; her tribe was small, but strong. Numbers meant little, save more glory to the victor.

To ensure that Ashe's troops would fall into step how Sejuani had planned, the Winter's Wrath had her men set up fake terrain. By diverting the flow of several creeks that had sprung up with the melt, the Winter's Claw had created ponds and sloughs that would either slow or completely block Avarosani movement. Shifting boulders was almost impossible, however, some of her brighter minds had used these enormous monoliths to create the illusion of rock falls and dangerous crossings; enough to deter even the most stalwart soldier. Sejuani had never been one to spend a long period of time either planning or setting up for a single attack, but this was different. The winds had changed and her seers had predicted something monumental was about to happen. There was no time like the present; it was time to strike.

Once her vanguard had finally reached their encampment, Sejuani immediately marched off to find her seer. There was something she still needed taken care of before they launched this all-or-nothing attack. The queen of the Winter's Claw wandered through the small, hide-and-bone camp that her clan had set up. Each yurt was set a short distance from the next and formed a protective perimeter around her personal yurt. Unlike Ashe, who felt repulsed by the idea of being a queen as opposed to a leader, Sejuani reveled in it. She had fought tooth and nail to her position at the head of her tribe, either subjugating those who stood against her or slaughtering them outright. There was no time for pleasantries in the wilds, no time for sympathy towards pretenders to the crown. She was queen and she exerted her power accordingly. Any brave enough - or foolish enough - to stand up to her paid the price.

Beside her yurt was the seer's yurt. Smaller and riddled with bones, entrails, feathers, and other oddities, it was an unmistakable place of magical power. Thick smoke seemed to hang around it at all times, and the stench of burning herbs was noticeable from some distance away. The queen paused for a moment to steel herself for the wave that she was about to unleash, but after taking a deep breath and scrunching her face, Sejuani pushed through the flap. Even with the preparation, Sejuani could not help but to cough and wave her hand in front of her eyes. The air reeked and the smoke burned her eyes. If her seer was not such a necessary part of her continued domination of her tribe, she would have that bane of her existence executed.

"Biina!" Sejuani hacked. There was no way she could sit in this god-forsaken pit any longer than she had to. It only took a few steps for her to find a seat and she took it immediately, even hunching slightly in an attempt to pull her head out of the thick smoke.

Many seers had come and gone in the Winter's Claw tribe. Sejuani had little use for them, and a simple mistake was all that it took for her to execute one and bring in the next. Biina was the first exception to that rule. Typically, seers were older and had been practicing their craft for many years; Biina was barely in her twenties and had already proven herself much more reliable than any that had come before. As she grew accommodated to the smog in the air, Sejuani began making the young girl's features out. She had soft eyes and incredibly long, ebony hair that matched her dark, wind-weathered skin. Though her shawl and garments were made from roughly hewn leather, she wore them with a delicate poise that turned even the most grotesque creation into a thing of beauty. Some part of Sejuani's mind, hidden far away from view, even envied Biina's warm gaze and smile.

As soon as she heard Sejuani's voice, the seer stepped over and sat down across the fire from her queen. "Hmm, you are up late, my queen. What brings you to my abode at such an ungodly hour?" Biina tapped her lips thoughtfully while a small smirk tugged at the corners. "Wait, don't tell me." Her hand slipped backwards, onto one of the many low benches that littered the area. What she withdrew was the sole reason why Sejuani was willing to take such a risk in baiting Ashe to the field of battle.

Cracking and raiding tombs was not something that Sejuani took any pleasure in doing. It was dangerous work with very little reward, but this time she had been promised something that even she could not resist. After reading over a strange stone at the head of a lost cairn in the high arctic, Biina had divined the location of what she called a relic weapon. Something from a time before the Betrayer. Though neither Sejuani nor Biina knew who - or what - the Betrayer was, the temptation of hunting down a weapon powerful enough to destroy civilizations was hard to resist.

What the weapon was had proven much harder to divine. The stone spoke of the weapon in three parts, but only one was obtainable. If only one part was obtainable, Sejuani had argued, what was the point of even trying to retrieve it. Biina countered with the only logical answer: if one part was obtainable, why would the others be impossible to obtain? Perhaps the first unlocked the others. And, even if only one part was in their hands, what would stop them from using it anyway? They did not need to bury the world in ice, they simply needed to face off with Avarosani forces and dominate the battlefield.

So, grumbling under her breath, Sejuani had led her forces to find the ancient weapon. The crypt had been filled with dreygur and enormous spiders, as well as one rather unfriendly steppe bear. Leaving Bristle behind was not something Sejuani relished either, but the payoff had proven to be worth it.

As with most ancient Freljordi crypts, this one had been littered with offerings to the Spirits of the Wild. However, one chamber in particular caused Sejuani to pause. In the middle of the room was an enormous stone dais, carved with hieroglyphs of each of the Spirits of the Wild. Some were immediately obvious to her; Udyr still protected them and embodied them in human form. Bear, Turtle, Tiger and even Phoenix appeared in their own little niche, a single symbol carved underneath them. She guessed, for she did not know, that it was simply the spirit's name. However, the four that she knew were only four amongst a score. Of the others, Sejuani could only name a few, even after wiping the dust clean. Pig? A boar? It was hard to tell. A fish, perhaps a salmon? There was only one humanoid creature in the Freljord, so she had to assume that it was the yeti. But even with the unknown glyphs littering the dais, she had bigger questions.

With her men guarding the door and checking for traps - or perhaps dreygur that had grown a bit too feisty - Sejuani circled the enormous stone tablet. Her fingers traced through the dust towards something odd. A bright, silvery light shone through one of the glyphs. It seemed to have a pulse and easily shone through the dust that coated the dais. She wiped it the glowing glyph clean and tried to make out what it was intended to represent. Short, rounded ears, what appeared to be long teeth - fangs? tusks? - and bumps all over. It was not a troll, but what else could it be? And why was this one glowing, while the others were dark? Sejuani had too many questions and too few answers. When one of her men pointed out that a second glyph was still glowing, albeit much more faintly, she investigated. This one, at least, was recognizable. A fox. At least it cleared up if the other one was a wolf or not, but it still failed to answer why these glyphs were glowing while the rest were nothing but lines in a rock. The queen of the Winter's Wrath made a mental note to drag Biina back here at a later date. For now, they had a weapon to find.

Pressing deeper into the crypt, Sejuani could feel the air growing ever colder around her. The men she brought with her noticed as well and began joking that the weapon was a dragon, or some other mythical beast. When the group finally stepped into the light of the tomb itself, the speculation was cut short.

Floating almost a meter off the ground in a pillar of light was the weapon. Silence fell upon her men as Sejuani advanced, eyes locked on the spear. Bladed at both ends and carved from ivory, it was a beautiful weapon to behold. Pure white, the spear seemed to reflect so much light that it lit up the room. Swirls of True Ice graced its length from blade to blade, and the cruelly hooked blades were both made from the indestructible blue material. Power radiated from the weapon in the same way that Ashe's bow or Sejuani's flail did, but in a much stronger, much rawer form; it even seemed to have a pulse, the True Ice glowing brighter or dimmer depending on the moment. This was a weapon from a by-gone age, a weapon who's craftsmanship had been long since lost. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of years separated Sejuani from its original user, and yet she felt as though she were standing next to him.

As Sejuani reached for the haft of the spear, she heard a faint voice. A woman's voice, so soft and wispy that she could barely make out the words. Concentrating hard, Sejuani willed the voice back. "Behind you!" one of her men screamed. The sudden shout shattered Sejuani's trance and she whirled in place in time to see another of her men diving forward, plunging his sword into the stone where she had only seconds before been standing. Madness tainted his eyes and with Sejuani out of the way, he lunged for the spear.

His foul fingers ripped it from its holy resting place and he immediately whirled to thrust the tip into Sejuani's chest. Before the man could react, ice bloomed from the haft of the spear and began coating his hands. Jagged crystals burst from his hands in a spray of blood and his triumphant roar suddenly became a scream of agony. All over his body, crystals began erupting through his skin. They started on his hands before racing up his arms. Audible cracks and splinters filled the chamber while his bones shattered and his blood froze. A look of pure terror managed to cross his face before a spike of ice burst from his face. Once the gruesome freeze finished, his mangled corpse fell over and shattered on impact with the ground. The whole process took naught but a few seconds and left Sejuani's men as breathless as she was. A faint wisp of frosty fog whipped off the man's shattered corpse and began flowing into the weapon; a few moments later, nothing but bits of his armour remained.

When she went to pick the spear up, several of her men rushed over to try to stop her, claiming that it was too dangerous. However, her fingers curled around the spear and she lifted it off the ground without ceremony. There was no pain, no rush of ancient energy; Sejuani simply picked it up. She spun it around in her hands lightly, marveling at the weapon's perfect balance and the ease with which it clove the air. When she finally grasped it and held it firmly, she knew. This was the weapon. This would give her the edge in the war.

Biina delicately handed Sejuani the spear and felt a smug little smirk curl the edges of her lips. "You were right. This weapon is ancient, and it carries not only the power of the spirits, but something more." How Biina could handle the weapon was a mystery that Sejuani intended on solving, preferably as quickly as possible. Why had one of her men immediately been taken with the spear and eviscerated by it, while her seer seemed to handle the weapon with no more ceremony than she had? The ways of the ancients confounded her more than Ashe's willingness to let weakness rot their culture from the inside out.

"What do you mean, 'something more'?" Sejuani demanded as she ran her fingers along the haft of the spear. It was thicker and heavier than any spear she had seen before, so it definitely was not a throwing implement. It seemed to more closely resemble a staff of some kind, albeit one with blades on either end. The whole length of the weapon extended to almost two meters, and the center of the staff was only four centimeters thick and tapered towards the ends. The blades faced in opposite directions and had a recurved cutting edge. Sharp hooks lined the back sides of each of the elegant, shimmering blades, adding a touch of cruel brutality to an otherwise beautiful weapon. Up close, Sejuani could even make out silver inlaid between the ivory and True Ice parts of the staff. However, no matter how hard she looked, there were no faults in either the ivory or the ice. There was no sign of how the weapon was crafted, nor how the blades were attached - everything was one solid piece. Whenever she held the weapon, the pulsating lights from within seemed to speed up, though there was no rhyme or reason to how the weapon pulsed.

After allowing Sejuani a few moments to admire the weapon, Biina spoke up. "How much do you know about the history of Freljord?"

The queen of the Winter's Claw glanced up and gave a non-committal shrug. "Enough to know I'm royalty, and nothing else matters."

Biina pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. Of course, why would Sejuani, of all people, care about the past. "Then allow me to enlighten you. Hundreds of years ago, during the time of the Three Sisters, there were many different sects of the society. Hunters, soldiers, princesses, and there are even legends of shamans guarding the Spirits of the Wild." Her tone was condescending at first, as though she were explaining this to a slow child. Sejuani almost silenced Biina with the blade in her hands, but as her seer spoke, she relaxed. "From what I understand, there were different shamans for each of the Spirits, and their apprentices learned under them. When the shaman grew old, they would wander off into the wilds to die and release their spirit into the Spirit Realm; then, their chosen apprentice would don the mantle and carry on. Some were protectors, others were mystics, but all had one goal in life: to grow as close to their Spirit as possible.

"However, during the time of the Three Sisters, something happened. Records vanish, and the stories speak only of the Betrayer - someone who turned the Freljord against itself, someone who awoke a great and ancient evil and unleashed it upon the people who lived there. Beyond that, we don't know much about the Betrayer, other than that it was locked away forever." She offered a little shrug when she finished her story, but Sejuani seemed curious.

"You said 'it'. Don't they at least know who the Betrayer was?" she pried in an attempt to get more information out of Biina.

The seer shook her head. "If they did, the Betrayer's name was lost in time. Some believe he was one of the Shamans, some believe that he was a soldier. No one even knows if it was a man, or a woman, or something more. Maybe it wasn't even human." Biina reached over and ran her fingers across the haft of the spear. "If this weapon is from a time before the Betrayer..."

She did not even have to finish her sentence, as Sejuani smirked wickedly and ran her finger along the icy blade. "Then this weapon was made to fight that ancient evil. It was made to kill... gods."


	2. Blood for Blood

With the threat of Iceborn on her doorstep, Ashe wasted absolutely no time in marching her troops to the east, into the Ironspike mountains. Currently, very little was known about the Iceborn; how they worked, how they thought, or what they wanted. And at this juncture, Ashe had no desire to find out the hard way. The only Iceborn that she knew of in existence was Lissandra herself, a strange and enigmatic creature from the mountains. She had seemed peaceful the first time they had met, but some of the icy queen's utterances set Ashe's teeth on edge. To say nothing of her aura; Lissandra felt ancient, she felt dangerous. Something about her simply did not gel with what Ashe considered natural or normal. Perhaps it was something as simple as the cadence in Lissandra's voice, or the simple fact that she moved by creating a shifting mass of ice. Whatever it was, hearing that the Iceborn were a threat and were coming out of hiding was not something she would take lightly.

A forced march over a day was all that it took for her fifteen-thousand strong army to reach the borders of the Howling Abyss. They were still a good distance out, but the air felt colder than ever before. Ice hung low in the air, giving off the impression of snow combined with fog, but infused with magic. The air was eerily silent as well; not even the eagles were shrieking above as they searched for prey far below.

Ashe had her men set up camps on a ridge overlooking the valley before the Howling Abyss. Even though she knew the Abyss was just a few miles away, she had to send scouts in to search for any sign of Iceborn movements. While she waited for their reports, the Queen of Freljord paced around the camp, checking up on her men and their gear. This would be a battle she had no desire to engage in, but if the Iceborn were getting uppity, she had no choice. If it meant breaking the League's rules, so be it; monsters could not be reasoned with.

She wandered through the camp, lost in thought while she inspected the fortifications that her men erected. A small wooden palisade was defense enough when combined with the impossible terrain, though Ashe made sure that her men were digging low trenches around the palisade as well. Digging through the permafrost was back-breaking work at the best of times, but here on this rocky outcropping there was barely ten centimeters of soil before the men found granite. Hardly enough to stop any force from crossing, but it would have to do. Within the camp, her men used what meager wood they had to set up fires and get food cooking, as well as set up long tents for the night. There was no way they could go down to the Abyss in the fog without proper scouting, and until the scouts returned they had nothing to do but wait, sharpen their weapons and pray to whichever spirits they considered sacred.

Once her rounds were finished, Ashe retired to her own tent and threw herself heavily on the pile of furs that had been provided. Nowhere near as comfortable as her bed, she thought with a huff. She lit a small lantern beside her bedroll and pulled an ancient tome from her rucksack. If any of her men were to catch her carrying around something as heavy as this was, they would give her hell for wasting weight on something unimportant. However, this tome was one of the few remaining relics from a bygone age and held vague words about the Iceborn and their purpose, as well as the Howling Abyss itself.

From what she could glean from the tattered pages, she could make a few safe assumptions. The Iceborn were hostile and would have little care about attacking anything that moved. They were human in appearance alone, having surrendered their minds to the icy blackness that the Watchers promised. She then paused and tapped her lip thoughtfully. How could that be? Were the three sisters not Iceborn? Were they not elevated above their humanity and then overthrew the Watchers? That was the story she had always heard, and parts of this tome seemed to support those claims. Avarosa had been the first to throw off her shackles and attack the Watchers; her forces had defeated the ancient beings at the Howling Abyss! She gave a frustrated sigh and flicked the page, brow knit. Great, more puzzles and contradictory evidence. Nothing made sense.

Further through the musty old book, Ashe began to find accounts of some of the things she could expect to face in combat. There were accounts of ancient, frozen weapons ranging from a simple sword to a complicated ballista system, all made from ice. It also seemed that the Iceborn shunned armour because their skin was so thick and durable due to the infusion of True ice. That would be something that her men would have to overcome... perhaps fire would be the best bet? She could probably find some pitch in the area; the Ironspike Mountains seemed to be overflowing with it anyway. If she could find a way to fire it onto the Iceborn forces, maybe it would be enough to get through their skin? Her train of thought wandered further and she considered coating arrows and swords with pitch, but the odds of that backfiring were much too great for her; risking her own men for an unsure advantage was not something she was willing to do.

Though she knew she had to rest, there was still so much to leaf through. A few pages later, there was even a description of some of the tactics that the Iceborn preferred to use. Fading in and out of the mist, using it as a mobile veil, and even creating thick fog to use in offensive or defensive maneuvers. Ashe had to pause at the last line, colour draining from her face. She slipped out from under her furs and peeked through the flap of her tent; it was definitely still very foggy. As night fell, it almost seemed as though the fog were growing thicker. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. They might be fighting sooner than she had anticipated.

Sejuani grunted to herself in satisfaction as she wrenched the spear from the ground and watched the fallen scout's body shatter, turn into mist, and be absorbed into the spear. Perfect. If Ashe was stupid enough to send scouts in this awful weather, then it would be her own fault for blinding herself. This was the third scout in as many hours, so Sejuani had little doubt in her mind that they were polishing off the last couple nosy intruders. She spun her newly-acquired weapon and smirked wickedly. It felt stronger now than it did in the tomb. As though it were happy to be out of such a damp and musty hellhole and back into the hands of a rightful leader. The pulses seemed to grow stronger with every life it ended.

"Soon, you'll be feasting on the flesh of the pretenders." She soothed, losing herself for a moment in the ethereal glow cast by the blade. Bristle stirred under her and tilted his enormous head to glance at her, curious as to what she was talking to. They were alone, were they not? Had Sejuani gone crazy? His rider gave him a swift jab in the sides with her spurs and he trundled forward, nose to the ground. There was another scout nearby. Bristle could smell the scout from a good distance off, though he was wary.

Since arriving at this ambush site a few days ago, Bristle had been restless. The spring was always a restless time for Ironfur Boars, since they were shedding and shedding was incredibly uncomfortable. But there was something else as well. Something in the air. Something ancient and dangerous. Something that Bristle did not enjoy being so close to. Sejuani had noticed her boar's trepidation while scouting around the Abyss and simply wrote it off as Bristle smelling whatever battles had happened here before. After all, the League of Legends had claimed the Howling Abyss as a battleground and quite a bit of blood had been spilled there in the name of sport.

As the pair crept along, Sejuani twirled the spear around her hand and marveled at its craftsmanship once again. There was absolutely nothing like it in the world. However, if this was every day craftsmanship, it made sense that several of these weapons would still exist somewhere in the Freljord; it would simply take a lot of tomb raiding to find them all. The prospect of being forced to raid more tombs did not exactly appeal to her, but if she could find more weapons of this caliber, she would more than happily do so. It had the added benefit of helping weed the weaker men from her ranks; anyone that could not survive a tomb would not do well on the field of battle.

Sejuani sat up and cast her eyes around the area. Rocky ledges, small patches of low grass, and not much else. She knew that Ashe was camped up on the hill, but even from this distance, the fog obscured every hint of the Frost Archer's army. It was worrying; they could sneak up on the Winter's Claw if they got brave enough, though a night time strike was probably far from Ashe's mind. If she thought she was going up against the Iceborn, the queen would not be willing to risk a disadvantageous fight. With nothing else showing up and no sign of another scout, Sejuani turned Bristle and trundled back to her troops. Time for a good night's rest to prepare for the battle ahead.

The Winter's Claw had camped in small crevices and in the lees of rocks, hiding them from prying Avarosan eyes. Sejuani had made sure to keep all of the fires small just in case someone did decide to poke around, and several guards stood watch over each camp. Thus far, no one had been stupid enough to meander too close. It was just a question of time, however. Sejuani guided Bristle over to her own fire, at the center of the small encampment. When she arrived, Biina glanced up towards her queen and smiled. There was a hint of something more behind her curved lips, but for the moment, she said nothing.

"The preparations are complete. We're ready for what the Avarosan can throw at us." she huffed, dismounting and guiding Bristle into his place at her side. The boar, for all of his grit and girth, was actually rather playful and furry - he made a good bedmate. When he was not expecting combat, Bristle was rather affectionate with Sejuani, and once she had him laying down, he immediately lolled onto one side and let her rub at his soft belly fur. The queen scowled at her boar and then sighed. She could not argue with that. "You're too soft, Bristle. Do I have to turn you into a ham?" Hollow teasing. There was no way she could.

Biina's plump lips turned as she heard Sejuani's words. "I don't doubt we're ready for the Avarosan... but I have a feeling that they're not the only threat we'll face tomorrow."

Removing her armour with little care for either the cold or Biina's eyes, Sejuani turned with her greaves half off. "No?" As much as Sejuani hated to admit it, Biina had not steered her wrong yet...

The seer shook her head and sat up, her blanket falling off her nude torso. "No, there's... something different here. Something ancient. I can feel it in the air, Sejuani. Whatever is here isn't happy that we're here... and it will be coming to fight us."

After a moment of hesitation, Sejuani merely shrugged the warning off. "Then it will die."

The fog did not lift in the morning. If anything, it was thicker than before and proved almost as treacherous as a snowstorm. Men tripped and fell over unseen rocks and roots, a couple injuring themselves on their weapons as they fell. Once they arrived in the valley, things began to take on an even eerier air. With the sun up, Ashe could see the ancient statues that littered the path they were walking down. Cracked with years of freeze and thaw cycles, their harsh stone faces judged the Avarosan soldiers as they walked below. Ancient kings and forgotten generals were the last holdovers from a by-gone age.

Unlike many generals, Ashe preferred to lead from the front. Her pace was brisk, but calculated. Visibility was still rather low, but there was no sign of any Iceborn activity. Nothing save... she held up her fist to signal a halt and then jogged a short distance ahead and knelt by a pile of scrap metal. Armour from one of her scouts, with no body nor blood in sight. Unless he had stripped naked and run off between the statues, something was very wrong here.

"Fan out. Search the area." She snapped as she whirled to face her troops. They nodded and immediately began clamoring over the rocks and massive shards of ice. Ashe knelt to inspect the armour to try to determine what had happened to this hapless soldier. A single thin entry hole marked where the weapon had gone in and it was covered in small crystals. She tried to break one free of the iron breastplate, however, it was the iron that gave before the ice did. Startled, Ashe lifted the sliver of iron and took a closer look. The ice glimmered in the low light and matched the colour of her bow perfectly. Dread gripped her stomach immediately. Could the Iceborn have slipped past them in the night? Was the entire Freljord in danger now?

Questions clouded her mind for a few moments before she felt a solid impact from behind and found herself face down in the arctic permafrost. Crying out in anger and surprise, she tried to struggle, only to hear an arrow whistle over her head. Her eyes flew upwards, ignoring the soldier that had saved her life, and towards the barbarian that stood just a few meters away. Knocking another arrow, he drew and let fly. The arrow arced through the air before impaling the soldier that, until a moment ago, had been on top of her. Blood spouted from his newly perforated throat and he fell to the side gurgling incoherently. No time to think, Ashe's body reacted on muscle memory. She drew her bow and willed a frosty arrow into existence. Draw, aim, fire. Her arrow did not whistle in the air, but her arrows were perfect - no gaps to make those irritating sounds. The arrow hit true, piercing the barbarian's helm and dropping him on the spot. She barely had time to check if she had hit dead on before the sounds of a battle broke out behind her.

Ashe whirled and drew another arrow, designating a target in half of a second before releasing another arrow. Her aim was true and she impaled another Winter's Claw soldier, knocking him backwards and causing him to lose his grip on his sword - recently run through an Avarosan archer's back. With a few seconds to assess the situation, Ashe put everything together instantly. Sejuani had laid a trap. The scout was either a spy or too stupid to tell the difference between the Iceborn and these barbarians. Neither scenario mattered at this point, but it helped put her mind at ease, even for a split second. The Frost Archer's lips parted and she screamed in rage at the deception before drawing the bow once again. Seven arrows all formed at once and she let fly, a surge of violent satisfaction filling her heart as seven Winter's Claw fell dead. Her men glanced at her, gave a nod of thanks, and then turned their attention to the battle ahead.

As soon as Ashe paused for the armour, Sejuani knew it was time to strike. She nodded to Biina, who cast a signal charm into the sky. The charm caused the Winter's Claw emblem to flash in the fog for a heartbeat, and the moment it disappeared, the tribe struck. Hidden in the rocks and snow banks all along the path, they had the Avarosan completely encircled. When the signal went off, they struck. Starting with a hail of javelins that struck from the sides and followed by a two-pronged charge, the Winter's Claw, though badly outnumbered, found an advantage both in surprise and in tactics.

By forcing the Avarosan into a small corridor, the Winter's Claw stretched the Avarosani numbers as thinly as possible. Unable to form ranks or even use their weapons properly, they were easy meat. Winter's Claw berserkers tore holes through disorganized archers, their bladed axes hacking through light leather armour and spraying gore over both sides equally. The couple archers that did manage to draw and fire were disorganized at best and dangerous to their comrades at worst. More than once, arrows pierced Avarosan armour as opposed to Winter's Claw, leading to even more casualties as the front lines disintegrated.

Meanwhile, at the front of the battle, Sejuani had moved her cavalry into position. A single charge would be enough to end this, she figured, but she would wait until the very last moment to launch the charge. For now, she was happy to sit atop Bristle and watch the battle unfold all around her. Her eyes flicked from skirmish to skirmish, watching the Avarosan bodies beginning to fall. Numbers meant nothing in a battle such as this one. In fact, the more troops Ashe committed, the better it would be for Sejuani - she would not have to fight them later. A small smirk of satisfaction crossed her face and she chuckled darkly. Soon.

In the middle of the battle, Ashe tried to rally and direct her troops. The clamour of swords meeting armour was deafening and caused her shouts to fall on too few ears. Seeing another archer taking aim, she drew her bow and squinted, launching yet another arrow into his face. Thus far, her aim had been true. As she reeled through the battle, trying to help wherever she could, she tried to piece together what had pushed Sejuani into taking such a foolish risk. She could not win this battle and the League would punish her violently for an unprovoked attack, especially against another champion. Breaking from her thoughts for a moment, Ashe glanced around the battlefield. All of the skirmishes were going in favour of the Winter's Claw and she could see her troops withering under the assault. Another volley of arrows helped alleviate the pressure in one place, but there was no way she could make her way from one end of the battle to the other. All around her, she could see sprays of blood and gore as axes and swords tore through light armour. Her heaviest troops were all at the front; her flanks and archers were completely exposed. Gritting her teeth, Ashe gave the order she never wanted to give. "Fall back!" She shouted and threw her arm in the direction that they had just left. There was no way they could get out of this without pulling back.

"Everybody, FALL BACK!" Her voice rose once more in an attempt to be heard. Several Avarosan units around her did manage to begin pushing back against the Winter's Claw. A pair of Legionary units formed around her, using their physical weight to shove the lighter Winter's Claw berserkers out of the way. Heavy, segmented armour protected them from all but the heaviest axe blows, and their kite shields were more than enough to turn away the Winter's Claw archers. Forming a fighting phalanx, the Avarosan began hacking their way through their attackers. Ashe, at the center of the formation, guided her archers to fire over her phalanx and into the Winter's Claw that still poured over the rocks. Finding their footing, the Avarosan managed to fight back.

Ashe swallowed her fury and narrowed her eyes, beginning to line her shots up on several targets. She fired as fast as she could draw, frosty arrows firing into targets on all sides. More than once she drew a fan and felled several hostiles in one motion; unlike the steel arrows her men fired, Ashe's arrows had more immediate effect. Those that hit armour too thick to penetrate shattered like glass, spraying shards of ice into everyone around. When her arrows hit lighter armour, they penetrated. At least once, her arrows speared two soldiers, pinning them together at the point of impact. It gave her grim satisfaction to watch blood spraying out of these savages, though in the pit of her stomach, she still felt as though she was murdering her own people.

One step at a time, the phalanx fought its way out of the death corridor. There was very little distance to cover, but the combination of rough terrain, corpses of the fallen, and the blood that they had left on the field made it a treacherous trip at best. Every couple yards they were forced to stop to help someone up or to fight more barbarians as they dove into the fray. None of the soldiers had expected the Winter's Claw to be this numerous, and they fought like cornered animals. Luckily for the Avarosan, they were the cornered animals - their flashing blades felled wave after wave of Sejuani's men. As they advanced, Ashe saw more of her men beginning to fold in behind her fighting wedge. The more troops they gathered, the stronger they became; the added weight of her wedge made pushing forward easier, and the resistance began to falter.

Sejuani growled once she saw the Avarosan beginning to get more traction. There was no way she was going to allow that soft pretender to escape. She urged Bristle forward and twirled her spear. "On my mark..." she snarled to her men. All around her, she could hear their boars pawing the ground impatiently. The second Ashe's phalanx pushed past the halfway point of their ambush corridor, the Winter's Wrath raised the spear high. "For the Freljord!" she screamed and spurred Bristle hard, setting the enormous boar into a charge. Her hand felt oddly empty without her enormous icy bola, but this spear would do the trick.

Ashe turned once she heard the distant rumble of cavalry and her eyes widened with horror. Sejuani and her Companions. There was nowhere for her men to scatter, so they would feel the brunt of the assault one way or the other. And, worse still, her lightest troops were facing the boars; there was no way for them to stand against this. She cried out in alarm and her men tried to wheel, but there was absolutely no room to maneuver. As soon as their advance was stymied, the Winter's Claw fell upon the Avarosan once again - and this time, they had backup.

Sejuani spurred Bristle once more and hauled back on her reigns, driving the boar to leap. His thick fur and thicker hide protected him from whatever the Avarosan could throw at him and his sheer weight and mind-numbing momentum carried him through their ranks. Several cries of agony flew up around Bristle's heavy head as his sabre-like tusks gored their ranks. One particularly unlucky soldier took a tusk to the chest and his ribcage popped like an overripe tomato. Sejuani's body tingled with a rush of adrenaline as she laughed at the gore that splattered her torso and Bristle's face. She relished the moment for a heartbeat more before she began swinging the spear. A single cut proved fatal to the Avarosani below her. Ice bloomed from their wounds and began erupting out over their bodies as their blood froze solid. In the worst cases, the ice managed to impale other Avarosan, causing a chain reaction to wash out from in front of the Winter's Claw charge.

Watching in horror, Ashe could only fire a handful of arrows into the advancing cavalry. She saw her men fall from the heavy bolas of the boar riders. She saw Sejuani's relic weapon carving a wide swath through her men. And worse still, she saw destruction all around her. A force of almost fifteen thousand had been utterly obliterated. There was no way she could let this end here. Screwing her eyes shut, the Frost Archer took a deep breath and drew her bow.

"Avarosa, lend me your strength!" The words burst from her lips and her eyes flew open. Sejuani faltered for a split second as she saw Ashe's bow glow brilliant blue and heard a hawk scream overhead. Time seemed to slow, then stop. All movement ceased and Sejuani could feel an ancient power fill the air. Avarosa. Where a normal arrow would've been, the Winter's Wrath watched as an enormous icy bolt began to form. Pulsing with magical energy, the arrow seemed to inch back as Ashe drew. Once she had fully readied the shot, the queen's eyes flashed the same crystalline blue that her bow had, and she released. Sejuani barely had time to raise her arms to block the shot.

As soon as the enchanted crystal arrow had been fired, the battle ceased. Men from both sides fell silent as they watched Ashe floating a couple meters off the ground. Their eyes followed her trajectory towards the Winter's Claw cavalry. In a wide arc around Sejuani, each and every one of her men were frozen solid. Almost half of her cavalry had been decimated by a single shot. She glanced from left to right, eyes wide with shock and horror. How had she survived...? An icy pulse in her hand caused her to glance down at the spear.

One relic weapon was dangerous enough. Ashe's bow and Sejuani's bola were the only two known in the world before the spear had been pulled from its final resting place. Now, Sejuani was to bear witness to what could happen when two of these weapons clashed without the restrictions of the League. While the arrow had frozen her men, the ancient arcane energy had simply infused the spear. Both queens watched as the spear coated itself in the same crystalline skeleton that Ashe's arrow had. Every powerful pulse caused the crystals to grow from the blades and the haft, beginning to coat Sejuani's arm as well. She tried to release and toss the spear aside, but the crystal gauntlet that had been called into existence kept the spear firmly in her grip.

Once the transformation was complete, Sejuani found herself covered to the shoulder with enormous Iceborn crystals. Though they should have weighed a ton, she found the ice weightless and spun the ancient weapon with ease. A smirk crossed her face and she swung the blade. It whistled through the air and crackled with energy, causing her smirk to grow further. Her eyes flicked up to Ashe's horrified face. "May the true queen win." Sejuani breathed before spurring Bristle forward once again. Her cavalry charged around their frozen comrades, preparing to resume the assault.

However, for the second time in as many minutes, a loud noise caused the battle to come to a screeching halt. This time, however, it was the sound of ice cracking. Louder than a glacial shift, the crack shook the valley and threw more than a few of the combatants to the ground. Sejuani turned to follow the sound, and what she saw changed the flow of the battle immediately.

Unleashing such powerful magic in the field of battle was always dangerous. Doing so when one of the forces involved was a complete unknown was far beyond dangerous, especially in such an ancient place. When the arrow had caught the spear, the combined Iceborn energy had been enough to shatter a gate that had long since been locked. From high in the Ironspike mountains, the Iceborn came. Lissandra had long watched and waited for this moment, and it had finally arrived. Both queens, so puny, so mortal, together at the same place. With a simple brush of her hand, she could destroy them both. She could take Ashe's body and rule a united Freljord by herself. Opportunistic? Very. Was she going to pass on such a simple task, especially when it had been delivered to her? Of course not.

But she was not about to dirty her hands with such pedantic matters. Instead, she sent her Iceborn. When the trolls had allied with Lissandra, several of them had offered to undergo the transformation from troll to Iceborn. Their bodies had been mutated and changed beyond recognition. Large spikes of ice had burst from their skin and their hide had grown thick, glossy, and crystalline. Every breath caused mist to form as their sub-zero core temperature met the warmer spring air. They were taller, stronger, and faster. Their once-crude weapons had become refined killing machines. Their loincloths and leather armour had been replaced with near-impenetrable icy carapaces. Tiny, beady eyes glared out from under frozen manes, and in several of them, their tusks had grown so long that they could not even close their mouths. And though they pretended to follow Trundle, their only true leader was Lissandra.

And now, she had sent them to deal with the two queens. The trio of trolls unleashed the most blood-curdling screech that any of the amassed armies had heard and then charged down from the mountainside. Ashe could see them rushing Sejuani's cavalry and made a split-second decision. There was no way that they could fight against the trolls, especially in such a narrow corridor. The only thing that they could do was fall back. So, she ordered a full retreat. Even the Winter's Claw seemed willing to listen to Ashe, as they broke ranks and ran. Then, wading against the tide, Ashe struggled over to Bristle. She hoisted herself up onto the saddle beside the stunned Sejuani and slapped the other queen in the face. "Fall back!" She ordered, glaring at Sejuani's cavalry. They seemed too stunned by the appearance of the trolls and Ashe's sudden brazenness to react. Sejuani blinked, confused, and rubbed her cheek where Ashe's hand had connected.

"What are yo-" she began to retort, but her words died in her throat when the first troll hit the flank of her cavalry. What had appeared to be a club at first glance was actually an enormous battle axe forged from a True Ice slab that could've easily been a wall in a longhouse. It came up, glinted in the air, and then smashed down onto the boar rider with such force that the huge Ironfur boar exploded in a shower of gore. There was not even enough time for the rider to cry out in terror - a single blow reduced them to their organic components. The troll then threw its weight behind the axe and clove through a pair of boar riders, smashing one into the other and then into a giant statue; the statue gave out well before the axe did, and another shower of gore, rock, and iron bits rained down on the stunned riders. Crimson stained the ground and any of the boar riders too close to the impact zone.

"Fall back!" Sejuani screamed, wheeling Bristle around and charging off down the valley that had, until recently, been the battleground she had waited a lifetime for. Though her mind screamed at her to shove Ashe off her saddle, her heart could not do it. There was no way she could leave Ashe to these monstrosities. This was not how this was supposed to end. Bristle slammed through the bodies that littered the ground, tossing a few carelessly into the air like ragdolls. Behind her, the trolls had given up the chase for some unknown reason. When she glanced back, a chill filled her veins.

Iceborn were not born, they were created. And, before Sejuani's eyes, she watched the Iceborn begin the process. The trolls formed a perimeter to defend their fourth member. It was hard to tell what, exactly, the member was - it looked human, albeit with four arms. Cloaked head to toe in heavy black armour inscribed with ancient runes, the monstrosity immediately set about its grotesque work. Sejuani only had time to catch sight of a dead corpse being infused with energy and then shift on its own before she tore her eyes from the scene and guided Bristle towards Ashe's camp.

Ashe scooted back onto the saddle as the pair trundled up the steep cliff towards Ashe's camp. She almost fell out of the saddle several times, but managed to catch herself before she completely tumbled free. Sejuani did her best to ignore the queen stuck in the saddle with her, though the tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Neither queen wanted to admit what had just happened. Sejuani had baited Ashe into a battle that had cost both of them hundreds, if not thousands, of men. And, from what Sejuani had seen, those forces had just been picked up by the Iceborn. Up until today, she had not believed that the Iceborn were a real threat. She had not entirely believed that they even existed. Words circled her mind as she tried to figure out what to say to Ashe. An apology? An offer to help clean this mess up?

When Bristle finally managed to waddle into the camp, Sejuani bit her tongue. The Winter's Claw were not at fault here. It was Ashe's stupid arrogance, her unwillingness to turn over the crown, that had caused this. No. The Winter's Claw were leaving, and they would not waste their time with this.

Seeing her men, Sejuani halted Bristle long enough for Ashe to dismount. Ashe paused to speak, but her dry mouth caused her to pause and lick her lips, trying to find words. Instead of waiting, Sejuani turned towards Ashe, pulled her new spear free, and used the haft to bodily shove Ashe clear of Bristle's back. The boar huffed audibly and turned to face Ashe, blood-stained tusks gleaming in the low light.

The Frost Archer grunted when her body slammed into the hard-packed permafrost and she barely scrambled away from Bristle's lunge. Once Ashe had put distance between herself and Sejuani, she glared up at her rival. Sejuani returned the glare, cold and uncaring, before she turned to her men. "Pack up. We're leaving."

Several of her men hesitated at her order. After a day of fighting, they were abandoning the Avarosan to their fate? After a day of fighting, they were expected to be able to march off into the tundra? Sleep had not come easily the past nights, and Sejuani was met with exhausted looks from every corner of her troops. She had ridden into battle with a few thousand. Before her, she had maybe a few hundred. Even her cavalry had been almost completely annihilated.

"No." Ashe's stern voice silenced the murmurs floating up from the Winter's Claw. Sejuani reeled towards the other queen and narrowed her eyes.

"What makes you think you have any right to speak to me, whelp?" Sejuani spat, fingers clutching the relic weapon with all their might.

The Frost Archer glanced around Sejuani's men, and then her own. She saw exhaustion. She saw exasperation. And she saw the very real possibility of mutiny. So, instead of trying to argue with the Winter's Wrath, she turned to her tribe. "Listen to me. You have traveled far. You have fought hard. You have slaughtered mine, and we have slaughtered yours. Each and every one of you has lost something - someone - to this endless conflict. And now, you have all seen the real threat that we face. The Iceborn are coming. They will come from this valley unless we stop them here and now. They will come to kill everyone you know and love."

Ashe's voice wavered for a moment and she paused long enough to catch her breath, though she was exhausted. "Your queen will lead you away, back into the tundra. You will continue living off the land as you always have, and your numbers will continue to dwindle. Your injured will be left as food for the wolves. Your sick will be sent off so they don't infect the healthy. And soon, the Iceborn will come. If we cannot stop them here, they will kill you later. You have a choice." She turned to face Sejuani, her eyes glinting with barely contained rage. "You can follow the pig and leave us behind and trust that we can save your lives, or you can fight. For glory. For your ancestors. For your children as yet born." More than a few of Sejuani's men snorted at Ashe's words. Trust in the Avarosan? Turn against their beliefs?

However, more yet glanced from one to the other. They had seen the trolls. If this was simply a trio of scouts, what would the actual army look like? How could they stand against it when it did come? It started with a single man stepping forward, removing his helm and placing his kite shield's point on the ground.

"I will follow, Ashe of the Avarosan. You are not my queen, but if Sejuani would rather let us all die for pride, she is not my queen either." A bold move for someone who would've killed Ashe in a heartbeat just a few hours prior. However, his words rang true. The Freljord was a harsh place, it was true, but running from a battle was not the Winter's Claw way. Several soldiers stepped forward as well, bowing their heads to Ashe.

Though her heart was hammering away in her chest, Ashe felt relief welling up from the pit of her stomach. Maybe there was still a chance for this to work. Maybe she could actually fight the Iceborn and push them back. After the first few soldiers spoke up, the wave grew. Even the most stalwart and hateful Winter's Claw understood that what they had awoken here could not be allowed to spread. The trolls were enough of a threat to make them worry about the future; the thought of an entire army of these beasts chilled them to the bone.

Sejuani's eyes flashed with rage as she glared at her men, trying to use her glacial stare to silence them. To no avail, as, by the end of it, the remainder of her shattered forces all took a knee before Ashe. Turning to Sejuani, Ashe offered a hand. When Sejuani refused to take it, the Queen of Freljord spoke.

"Sejuani. What happened today will never be forgotten, nor forgiven. But we do not have the resources to fight you and the Iceborn at the same time. You do not have the resources to fight us and resist the Iceborn. Join us for one glorious battle, and we will go our separate ways." Ashe pleaded, her hand still raised. Sejuani watched the limb and took note that the queen before her was shaking from exhaustion, but Ashe refused to lower it. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, Sejuani slid from Bristle's back and pulled her helm off.

She stepped forward and took Ashe's hand, her fingers curling around the slighter woman's bracer. "We fight together, we destroy these beasts, and we part ways." Sejuani laid her conditions on the table immediately.

Ashe could have collapsed with relief once she heard the queen of the Winter's Claw accepting the terms. Her hand squeezed Sejuani's bracer before she turned to the assembled soldiers. "Rest for tonight. We will send scouts down to watch the Iceborn, and assemble you if you are needed."

Her eyes then turned to Sejuani. "Come. We need to talk strategy."


End file.
